


turkey, actually

by casdoms (moffwithhishead)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Thanksgiving, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:43:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2679575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffwithhishead/pseuds/casdoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas hates it when he uses abbreviations in text messages. Dude can't add enough emoticons, even though Dean's phone won't display them, but god forbid someone types 'lol.' </p><p>"Dean," he'd said a little too emphatically to be taken seriously if it were anyone else, "You are not, and nor will you ever be, 'laughing out loud' at anything sent in a text message."</p><p>He might've been fucking with Dean. It's hard to tell sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	turkey, actually

**Author's Note:**

> written at 12:30 am because apparently that's a thing now.
> 
> title is inspired by Love Actually. because it's not christmas but there is turkey soup.

Dean looks up from the pot of soup he's making (no use doing a whole turkey for just two people) when he hears his phone go off.

Happy Thanksgiving, Dean. :-) Cas

He snorts fondly and shakes his head as he sets the soup to a low simmer. Dean rests back against the counter, crossing his ankles as he starts to type his reply with what he's sure is a dopey grin on his face.

Thanks man. Same 2 u. Dean

It takes him all of thirty seconds to get a reply.

I wish I was there with you. Cas

It should embarrass him how much that one text message makes him ache but he's still smiling like an idiot because it's Cas. He might be going dark side again and he might still be a little bitter about being cured but it's Thanksgiving, they're all alive, and he's happy.

Or maybe he's just hoping like hell that whole 'fake it till you make it' bullshit isn't complete crap.

Me 2. Dean  
Where r u anyway? Dean

Cas hates it when he uses abbreviations in text messages. Dude can't add enough emoticons, even though Dean's phone won't display them, but god forbid someone types 'lol.' 

"Dean," he'd said a little too emphatically to be taken seriously if it were anyone else, "You are not, and nor will you ever be, 'laughing out loud' at anything sent in a text message."

He might've been fucking with Dean. It's hard to tell sometimes. 

Driving. Cas  
...to any specific place? Dean  
I'm not sure. Cas

Dean tries to pretend the feeling that creeps up on him when he reads that is anything but anger or hurt or even jealously.

It doesn't work.

You could be here, you know. Dean

He winces when he realizes what he sent. God, he sounds like some poor wife whose shitty husband is cheating on her.

I mean, Continental is still working okay. Dean  
Bunker's got an empty bed for you. Dean

Two. There's two beds. One is empty all the time and it's in Cas' room. The other one is in Dean's room with a whole side that's practically untouched and begging for someone to take it. 

I don't need to sleep anymore, Dean. Cas

Dean laughs bitterly, the genuine smile having gone bitter and hurt a few texts ago. Cas is a fucking great big puppy dog but he's got enough angel left in him to be a real dick sometimes. Dean tries not to take it so personally most of the time but hey, maybe he's still a little bitter that two teenage girls are playing him in Cas in their life story and they get a happy ending. 

Fucking fantastic for you dude. Dean  
I gotta go back to cooking. Drive safe. Dean

He sets his phone back down on the counter a little more forcefully than he intends to (okay, he slams it - he's not proud) and goes back to stirring the soup. He ignores it when his phone buzzes six more times over the next half hour.

When they do finally sit down to eat dinner, it's awkward as hell. Even more so than usual.

Dean's still pissed and he's taking it out on the bowl and plate. Sam tries to make conversation for the first five minutes but Dean either doesn't hear him or is ignoring him because he stabs his cornbread in lieu of answering. It's a little weird. 

Sam clears his plate in record time and he gets up as soon as he's done to put his dishes in the sink. He'll come back and wash them later when Dean doesn't look like he's either going to cry or shoot someone.

When the kitchen is empty again, Dean stops pretending to actually eat and just shuffles the cornbread crumbs around on his plate angrily. 

His phone buzzes again, the text tone for Cas echoing off of the empty kitchen and Dean growls at the remnants of his soup. He gets up and aggressively sets his dishes down in the sink before going over to the fridge and grabbing a beer.

 _Bing_. The notification echoes again and Dean stomps off to the study, mumbling the whole time about stupid oblivious angels and how stupid he is for even thinking that Cas might feel the same way he used to.

It's stupid.  _He's_  stupid. Cas is especially stupid.

Dean pours himself a nice glass of whiskey and takes a long pull from it before he hears his phone go off again. This time the groan isn't internal.

He makes a beeline for his phone and grabs it immediately, unlocking it without bothering to see what the texts from Cas say. He presses the speed dial button and waits until the ringing stops before growling, "What. Do you. Want." 

"Dean," Cas' voice comes through on the other end and -- holy shit. He sounds  **annoyed**.  _He_  is annoyed. Castiel, angel of oblivious fucking Thursdays, is annoyed. With Dean. "I've been trying to talk to you --"

To be honest even if he could've stopped the slightly hysterical laugh from bubbling over, Dean wouldn't have wanted to. "Really?" Dean lets out another giggle and has to cover his face with his hand for a moment, "You. Castiel. Talking to me? Is that a thing that happens now? Is that something you fucking learned after you left this time?"

"Dean," Cas sighs, exasperatedly, and he takes a breath to say something else but Dean interrupts him before he gets the chance. 

"Oh no, I'm not done with you," he says a little more threateningly. "You come here, I'm a fucking demon, you cure me -- and then what? Three hours later, you duck out? You leave without even saying goodbye? I tell you that I'm glad you're here, I'm glad you're fucking with me, and you just ditch me?  _ **Again**_? And now, today, you have the fucking balls to text me, ON THANKSGIVING --"

Dean's not really sure why that's so important. He made turkey soup, cornbread and some pie for dessert. Definitely not a major holiday in the Winchester bunker.

"--And say to me that you wish you were fucking here. And then when I tell you that I want you here, you know what you say?" He takes a breath for a moment and runs a hand over his face, apparently running out of steam.

This time Cas' voice is softer, a little bit more understanding and horrifyingly enough, it's laced with more than a little bit of pity, "Dean..."

Dean laughs bitterly, "You don't need sleep. What the fuck does that even mean, Cas? Cause I know you don't need sleep anymore but that sure as shit never stopped you from drooling on me in purgatory. Or crashing in my bed when you were losing your grace and hunting for your dad. Or when you were here, with me, saving Sam. So what is it, Cas? Is it me? You don't need me anymore?" He should stop talking. He doesn't.

"Am I damaged goods or something now? Been a demon, still a fucking Knight of Hell or some shit, so now my soul isn't as pure as it used to be? Not as pretty to look at anymore, huh? Is  _that_  your problem?" 

" _ **Dean**_." 

He freezes mid pace and blinks a little because that voice definitely did  _not_  come from his phone.

"Turn around."

He does. Slowly and cautiously, like an animal who can feel the gun pointed to its head. (And in a sense, Cas has always been a shotgun pointed at Dean's head.)

Cas is standing in the doorway of the kitchen looking tired in his stupid trenchcoat. He's got his phone held up to his ear and an uncharacteristically large smile on his face. He's absolutely fucking stunning. 

"You're here," Dean says dumbly without lowering the phone from his ear. "You - you're in my kitchen."

The smile grows into a grin as Cas steps into the room, moving towards the spot where Dean has frozen in place, "I believe this is the part where we hang up now."

"You're here," he repeats a little breathlessly, still not quite believing it. 

Castiel's smile is soft as he hangs up his phone and takes Dean's out of his hand to do the same. He turns around for a moment to set them on the table behind him.

When he turns around he has approximately 200 pounds of hunter wrapped around him and Dean's face tucked into his neck. 

He smiles as he wraps his arms protectively around Dean's waist and moves so he can kiss the top of the other man's head, "Happy Thanksgiving, Dean."

Again Dean lets out a slightly hysterical laugh, grinning as he looks up at Cas and mumbles, "Shut the fuck up," before pulling him into a kiss.

It's perfect.


End file.
